The Orion Ride
by TheShadierTwin
Summary: A vulcan in captivity muses on his fate.  K/S.  Adult.  Originally written for a prompt on ST XI Kink Meme.  NOT FOR KIDS!
1. Chapter 1

I am not JJ, or Roddenberry. Sorry for being so mean to Spock, you guys!

Original prompt and fill here: .com/st_xi_kink_?thread=11208635

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He is drifting, although not… not floating, not this time. His muscles feel as strong as they ever do these days, and his head is clear. He is blindfolded, but they haven't stopped up his ears today. The phallus in his mouth is withdrawn and replaced by one of soft rubber over mechanics, the same as the one in his rectum. Someone wipes a warm cloth over his naked body, and then oils him.

"Showtime, lovely," a female voice croons, and the day's humiliation begins.

Today is, by his estimate, day thirty-three of his captivity, and he is beginning to give up hope of rescue. After all, humans are much less rare than vulcans, especially now - maybe Jim has been killed after all. Or maybe the orion slavers have just been better than he thought at hiding him.

Either way, Spock thinks as the phallus in his mouth begins vibrating and the anal phallus begins a slow, deep glide, this might be the rest of his life. Long days displayed at the fairs; occasional nights offered to wealthy women with curious, cruel fingers or wealthy men with rough desires.

He is less than a whore to them, he knows, and little more than a toy. He is a slave and a- a carnival attraction. They don't try to disguise it for his sake. The machine he is imprisoned in is coin operated. He has a barker.

Maybe, if he hadn't been sterile, his treatment would have been better - but he doubts it.

The oral phallus switches to a deep glide like the anal phallus. Both are at their furthest point of insertion simultaneously, and Spock reminds himself sharply not to bite. The restraints around his arms and legs begin to move with their familiar mechanical groaning, and he is stretched out side to side. Gravity aids the machine's labors now, and despite his best efforts he feels his penis extend.

He struggles to control himself as the machine impales him again and again from both ends, bruising him and marking him, and the crowd's excitement is drowned out by the throbbing in his own ears. But he is able to hold out until the client's time is used up, and the oral phallus releases a thin stream of cold juice, which he swallows greedily.

He is always permitted at least thirty seconds of recovery time, which is this time enough to regain his control and retract his penis.


	2. Chapter 2

The next one in line causes Spock to be bent over neatly in half, with his feet on the floor. His hands are then brought up to his rear, and Spock grabs hold of his own cheeks so that the machine can spread him apart - he knows what will happen to him if he does not.

The anal phallus retracts completely, and Spock tries to remain relaxed despite the chemical he is injected with, which causes his muscles to tighten. Almost as an afterthought, the oral phallus heats up to slightly warmer than his own body temperature and begins to throb in time with his own heartbeat.

Without warning, the anal phallus enters him. It has deflated to its minimum size, little larger than a finger. It enters and exits him a few times; in the back of his mind, he notices that his heart is slightly out of sync with the phallus in his mouth and subconsciously adjusts his own pulse to match it.

He does not notice that the anal phallus has been slowly growing in size until it stops inside him. It is at its largest, little bigger than an orion penis can achieve.

Spock's heart is pounding, and he is panting, and the throbbing oral phallus is continuing to pick up speed. His penis has extended and is hardening.

The anal phallus rotates and swirls, loosening Spock up even further, and then it withdraws completely, and is replaced with an animatronic hand, balled up in a fist. Spock remembers this game. At the first sign of tearing, the session will end - if it can fully extend its fingers, the client will win a prize.

The hand extends with agonizing slowness, and reaches its maximum range. It also brushes his prostate, and Spock ejaculates.

He receives no juice.


	3. Chapter 3

Late in the afternoon, when the attractions close for maintenance, the girl who cleans him up enters the machine. She stops up his ears and checks that his blindfold has not come loose. Her skin brushes his, and she is amused.

In the void of sensation that he is banished to, Spock imagines he can hear his bondmate's thoughts at the back of his mind. It is a fantasy - no doubt Jim died a month ago, and even if he lives he never learned how to search using their new bond - but it is a fantasy he hopes will stay with him.

The machine starts up earlier than he expected. It is to be a private performance, Spock supposes. No matter - one client or many, it is all the same by now.

The oral phallus withdraws from his mouth, and Spock keeps his mouth open - it is expected that the client will want to use him at both ends. Similarly, the anal phallus withdraws and he is injected with the tightening chemical again. He stands there, unimpaled for a moment, and pretends that he is home again, and clothed, and with Jim - and then his restraints force him to lie down on the bed that is sometimes there, and to pull his knees apart. He thinks, idly, _This is how it began, the night I was bonded._

The anal phallus has deflated to its minimum size again, and enters him, slick with some unknown oil. It loosens him gradually, growing to the size of two and then three fingers, before Spock is pulled up again, and the phallus he sits on is the same heat as Jim's was. It is exactly the night he was bonded, as near as the machine can approximate.

Spock seeks out the imagined contact at the back of his mind. _It's me,_ it says. _Please, cum for me, we can go home if you do. Please, love, t'hy'la, just cum for me and say my name and I can bring you home._ The phallus rocks in and out, and he rocks up and down on it and...

And what does he have to lose but hope? He lets loose his control, and as he cums (without an oral phallus for the first time in a month) he says, "Jim."

And the orion hands that remove his earplugs and blindfold are rough and projecting anger, but he doesn't care, because it _is_ Jim, there with the other him and Dr. McCoy - _of course,_ he thinks to himself, _they would not trust Jim to do this alone._ The other him looks pained; McCoy looks alternately disgusted and enraged; Jim is sending so much comfort and love through their bond that Spock can't tell what he's feeling. For the first time in thirty-three days, he is released from the machine without being drugged into unconsciousness. As he tries to stand, Spock realizes that the drugs would have been unnecessary this time - his hunger has made him weak.

Jim and Ambassador Spock help him to stand and drape him in a thin cotton robe, covering his nakedness while Dr. McCoy scans him. "I want those damn restraints off of him," Jim growls at the orion man beside them.

The orion gestures apologetically and explains that they can't _be_ removed, giving Jim the command key that can magnetically seal each of the bands around Spock's biceps, thighs, wrists, ankles and neck to anything he desires. He starts to apologize 'once again' for purchasing stolen property, but Dr. McCoy snarls at him to shut up and stand aside, and Spock sees the outdoors for the first time in a month.

And as the planet disappears in a dazzle of white, Spock leans against Jim, breathing in his scent and knowing that, at last, now that Jim has him, he is safe.


	4. Epilogue

Dr. McCoy pronounces him safe to leave sickbay after only a week, and Spock finds the lack of permanent damage logical. After the destruction of Vulcan, the vulcan slaves owned by orion slaveholders would have gained instant rarity value, even those who were useless for breeding purposes.

But the doctor will not pronounce him fit to return to active duty, because he is not a trauma psychologist, damnit, and he unofficially confines Spock to quarters. Spock sees no reason to disobey these unofficial orders, and spends twenty-three consecutive hours in meditation. It is inconclusive, and Spock sleeps fitfully for six hours before once again attempting meditation.

Jim is there after only four hours. "Is it helping?" he asks, sitting on the edge of their bed. "The meditation, I mean."

"It... it is not," Spock admits.

Jim nods and holds Spock's hand loosely, pushing love through the bond which turns to mourning when his fingers brush against the metal cuff on his wrist. "I wish I'd found you before they did this to you, Spock. I should have kept you safe."

Spock is silent for a long moment, and then says, "I suppose you can, now, if you want to."

"What?" Jim says, confusion crossing his face. Then, making one of those leaps in logic that Spock finds so fascinating, Jim is horrified. "No, Spock! I know we shared fantasies before- but I- I wouldn't do that, not after- god, how could you think me capable of that?"

But Spock presses on, shaking his head. He needs to say this. "Sometimes, the only thing that made it bearable was pretending it was you at the controls. That no one but you could see me and you were... that you..."

Now Jim sits silent for a long time. "Spock-"

But Spock is already lying back on their bet, hands at his ankles. "Jim," he says quietly, "Please."

Jim stands and looks at the door. Spock can feel no condemnation through their bond, only... conflict. Spock could try to understand the conflict, to pull it apart and make Jim laugh with logic, but he does not have the strength. Instead, he just closes his eyes and again whispers, "Please."

Jim is silent for another little while, until he says, "Computer, lock the door, authorization Alpha-One. Lights to twenty-five percent." The bed dips beside Spock. "Spock? Look at me."

Spock does so.

"I don't want to hurt you. So... if you tell me to stop at any time tonight, I'll stop. I won't leave you, okay? You never have to worry about me leaving you."

Spock nods when it becomes clear Jim is waiting for a response.

"I'm not going to use those... those cuffs." As Spock opens his mouth to argue, Jim interrupts him. "Not tonight, Spock. Maybe sometime, but not tonight." Spock relents, nodding once.

Jim kisses Spock slowly, the depth of his love traveling between them, as it always does. Spock does not resist as Jim rearranges him on their bed, his hands above his head and his knees loosely bent Jim's kisses have left his mouth; one long one lands on his pulse point, just above the collar. His mouth is benediction to Spock, each kiss blessing Spock's body in some way.

"Jim," Spock says, growing hard with none of the shame he has become accustomed to feeling over the past month. Jim does not respond verbally, although the love and associated emotions that come through the bond grip Spock like fingers.

Jim spends his kisses on Spock like Spock is worth everything he has, which Spock believes to be false, or else like his kisses mean nothing, which Spock knows to be false. His human eyes grow wet, and somewhere along the way his clothes have disappeared, and so have Jim's.

This time, as they cum, their tears mingle. But for Spock at least, they are tears of relief, and the sleep he sinks into is not a prison, but a cocoon.

And Jim is there, and Jim does not, will not leave him, not ever; and Spock begins to heal.

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A/N: I don't usually beg... but do you guys even like this? I've had no reviews...


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